Countries of 1000 islands. Croatia - the country of a thousand islands
Which country is called the “Country of 1000 Islands”? and got the best answer
Reply from Ђ@nyushka[guru]
INDONESIA
Country about which we're talking about in question, is the largest island nation in the world, often referred to as the "Land of 1000 Islands". Rabindranath Tagore said about this state: “I see India everywhere, but I do not recognize it.” (Indonesia).
Answer from 1
[active]
Answer from HANKA[guru]
Republic of Indonesia (Republik Indonesia) is a state in South-East Asia, on the islands of the Malay archipelago and the western part of the island. New Guinea(Irian Jaya). In the north it borders with Malaysia, in the east - with Papua New Guinea, on the island of Timor - with East Timor.
Indonesia is the world's largest archipelago. It consists of more than 13,676 islands: 5 main and 30 small archipelagos. The most large islands- New Guinea, Kalimantan (Borneo), Sumatra, Sulawesi (Celebes) and Java. The remaining islands have a much smaller area. The country stretches 5,120 km between the Asian mainland and Australia. The equator separates the Pacific and Indian Oceans here.
The ethnic composition of the population is Javanese, Sundanese, Madurese, Badui, Tengger, Indonesian Malay, Balinese, Minangkabau, Ache, Banjar, Dayak, Makassar, Bugis, Minahans, Galela and others.
The majority of believers are Muslims (about 90%).
Indonesian language belongs to the Indonesian branch of the Austronesian family of languages. Developed from the Malay language. Writing based on the Latin alphabet.
National Motto: "Bhinneka Tunggal lka - Unity in Diversity"
Anthem: "Indonesia Raya (Greater Indonesia)"
Date of independence August 17, 1945 (proclaimed)
27 December 1949 (recognized) (from the Netherlands)
Official languageIndonesian
Capital Jakarta
Largest city Jakarta
Form of governmentRepublic
President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono
Territory
Total
% water surface 15th in the world
1,919,440 km²
4,85
Population
Total (2005)
Density4th in the world
241,973,879 people
116 people /km²
GDP
Total (2004)
Per capita15th in the world
$801,432 million
3500 $
Currency Indonesian Rupiah (IDR)
Internet domain. id
Telephone code+62
Time zonesUTC +7 … +9
Reply from [guru]
Thailand, if I'm not mistaken.
Answer from Unixaix CATIA[guru]
Country of a Thousand Islands
Answer from Amorph Morg[active]
There are two options))
Croatia and Canada
Answer from Irina[expert]
Bermuda, it seems.
Answer from Moscow Moscow[guru]
Answer from Irina[guru]
Answer from DORZ[guru]
Answer from Irina[expert]
Bermuda, it seems.
Answer from Moscow Moscow[guru]
most likely the PHILIPPINES or INDONESIA
Answer from Irina[guru]
Indonesia. Republic of Indonesia is the largest Island state in the world. According to the latest data, Indonesia consists of 18,108 islands, of which about 1,000 have a permanent population.
Answer from DORZ[guru]
KRABI is the most beautiful province of Southern Thailand - a country of 1000 islands, discovered by the great Sinbad - a brave sailor and adventurer
Answer from Amorph Morg[active]
There are two options))
Croatia and Canada
Answer from Valentina Smirnova (Akhmatova)[guru]
Thailand, if I'm not mistaken.
Answer from Unixaix CATIA[guru]
Country of a Thousand Islands
The tower clock showed exactly 11.40. Surprised, I glanced at my wristwatches: 19.10. She mentally quipped: “The city of happy people - they don’t watch the clock.” The guide, apparently guessing my bewilderment, said: “This clock stopped during the earthquake in 1667.” Under the motionless arrows on the narrow white-stone streets, life was seething, mixing centuries.
You must enter ancient Dubrovnik through the Pila Gate, a semicircular tower with a sculpture of the city’s patron saint, St. Vlaha. His gilded statue - Vlah holding a model of the city before the earthquake - stands in the altar of the church that bears the saint's name. The steps in front of it, polished by millions of feet, have long been inhabited by tourists. In the evenings there is music booming here. A pulsating laser, tracing bizarre figures in the dark sky, now and then stumbles over ancient walls. The sharp beam freezes for a second, dissolving in the dim light of the ancient lanterns, like the walls. Materialized connection of times...
Surprisingly, it was in Croatia that I felt the absolute concreteness of this concept, somewhat worn out from frequent use. IN small towns, scattered along Adriatic coast, behind blind shutters that tightly cover the loophole windows, people live in fortified houses that have preserved their appearance unchanged since ancient times and received the status of architectural monuments. Children, devoid of any reverence for hoary antiquity, jump in the “hopscotch” drawn on the stone pavements of the 17th century. Just like many centuries ago, the heavy doors of shops open, filled with a variety of goods - local and overseas.
We, a group of journalists, were invited to Croatia by the Moscow tour operator"Danvita", which has chosen this country on the Adriatic as one of the main directions of its activities. More precisely, that part of it that is called Dalmatia, which has so far been less developed than others by the Russian tourism business.
By the way, Croatia is a country with old tourist traditions. Historical chronicles contain information that the first hotel for merchants and other visiting business people was built in Dubrovnik back in the 16th century. However, the real tourism boom began in the 19th century - with massive construction railways. In 1840 in Opatija, in Istria, on the largest peninsula Adriatic Sea the first one was built tourist hotel. And its closest neighbors poured into Croatia - the Austrians and Hungarians, who were the first to appreciate the healing local climate, the beauty of nature, and the opportunities for varied and healthy recreation. There is freedom for everyone here - modern Robinsons dreaming of solitude (they say that even if the country is filled with vacationers, they will not be cramped: for everyone there is a personal cove or island, where any boatman will gladly take you “from the mainland” at a cheap price), climbers and yachtsmen dreaming about the "elastic wind", for lovers of scuba diving and blessed thermal springs. And, of course, for gourmets - the best varieties of fish (and there are about 400 species in the local waters), lobsters, and oysters come to the table fresh, bypassing the refrigerator.
Croatia is a country where you want to return. The reason, perhaps, is in the harmony and beauty, which here for some reason turned out to be beyond the control of the harsh age of scientific and technological progress.
Answer from 1
[active]
Such old countries can be called Greece, Thailand, Indonesia and a couple of other countries
Croats love their country very much, so don’t be surprised if you hear from the lips of local residents, for example, this a beautiful legend. They say that when creating the planet, God gave one from a bag of treasures to each country, but over Croatia the bag broke and the wealth scattered. That's why here you will find all the most wonderful things that exist in nature: the cleanest sea, high mountains, rich plant and animal world. And if you add here ancient temples and picturesque medieval cities, then the charm of Croatia will be limitless, Natalia ORLOVA, manager of the office of the Relax travel club at 33 Pervomaisky Prospekt, is sure.
If you want to thoroughly get to know Croatia, remember one more of its names, unofficial, but extremely beautiful - the Country of a Thousand Islands!
— In fact, there are 1185 of them. Rarely a country can boast such an abundance of picturesque untouched corners of nature, so the islands are considered business card Croatia,- notes Natalia Orlova. — Ecological cleanliness is the main wealth of the country: in Croatia
8 national and 11 natural parks. One of national parks— Plitvice Lakes — included in the list World Heritage UNESCO. Now let's talk in more detail about some of the thousand Croatian islands.
Brac. If you dream of sunbathing and high waves, best beach You won't find anything better than the Golden Horn in Croatia. Protruding into the sea like the tongue of a giant lizard (though not as rough), this strip of land several kilometers long, located at the very edge of the island and blown by all the winds, is a real miracle of nature. This is very a good place for classes aquatic species sports such as surfing, paragliding, scuba diving, water scooters and catamarans. All this against a crystal background clean water makes a lasting impression! Pay attention to this interesting fact: Not only Diocletian’s Palace in Split, but also the Parliament building in Budapest and the White House in Washington were built from stone from the island of Brac.
Hvar. It is called the Croatian Ibiza for the abundance of bars and noisy youth parties, which, however, after 11 pm move to desert island next door so as not to disturb local residents. This is just part of what Hvar, an island of winemakers and farmers, is rich in. Just look at the beautiful archipelago of atolls right opposite the Old Town bay! Even for this reason it is worth sailing to Hvar.
Pag and Lastovo. The most popular places For gastronomic tours are the islands of Pag and Lastovo. At the first of them, traditional page cheese is made - unique product with a unique taste, made from the milk of local sheep. If you are a fan of edible shellfish and crustaceans, you definitely need to visit the island of Lastovo. Lobsters, oysters, clams and even lesser-known crustaceans are served with a variety of sauces and side dishes in the many taverns along the coast, which are decorated in traditional Serbo-Croatian style.
Mljet. The island is famous for the fact that it is home to mongooses, which were brought in in the Middle Ages to fight poisonous snakes. The latter were defeated in this war and gradually completely disappeared from the island, but the mongooses multiplied and became a living attraction of Mljet. The island is an ideal destination for lovers pristine nature and walks through pine forests.
One of the most mysterious attractions of this paradise is the cave of Odysseus. According to legend, the wandering Greek king spent seven years on the island with the beautiful nymph Calypso. It's a pity that modern lovers cannot afford a romantic trip of seven years, but even seven days spent on any of the 1,185 Croatian islands will be remembered forever.
Lyudmila Bazhenova
Images used: Shutterstock/Fotodom
The tower clock showed exactly 11.40. Surprised, I glanced at my wristwatches: 19.10. She mentally quipped: “The city of happy people - they don’t watch the clock.” The guide, apparently guessing my bewilderment, said: “This clock stopped during the earthquake in 1667.” Under the motionless arrows on the narrow white-stone streets, life was seething, mixing centuries.
You must enter ancient Dubrovnik through the Pila Gate, a semicircular tower with a sculpture of the city’s patron saint, St. Blaise. His gilded statue - Vlah holding a model of the city before the earthquake - stands in the altar of the church that bears the saint's name. The steps in front of it, polished by millions of feet, have long been inhabited by tourists. In the evenings there is music booming here. A pulsating laser, tracing bizarre figures in the dark sky, now and then stumbles over ancient walls. The sharp beam freezes for a second, dissolving in the dim light of the ancient lanterns, like the walls. Materialized connection of times...
Surprisingly, it was in Croatia that I felt the absolute concreteness of this concept, somewhat worn out from frequent use. In small towns scattered along the Adriatic coast, behind blind shutters that tightly cover loophole windows, people live in fortified houses that have retained their appearance unchanged since ancient times and have received the status of architectural monuments. Children, devoid of any reverence for hoary antiquity, jump in the “hopscotch” drawn on the stone pavements of the 17th century. Just like many centuries ago, the heavy doors of shops open, filled with a variety of goods - local and overseas.
We, a group of journalists, were invited to Croatia by the Moscow travel company Danvita, which chose this country on the Adriatic as one of its main areas of activity. More precisely, that part of it that is called Dalmatia, which has so far been less developed than others by the Russian tourism business.
By the way, Croatia is a country with old tourist traditions. Historical chronicles contain information that the first hotel for merchants and other visiting business people was built in Dubrovnik back in the 16th century. However, the real tourism boom began in the 19th century - with the massive construction of railways. In 1840, the first tourist hotel was built in Opatija, Istria, on the largest peninsula of the Adriatic Sea. And its closest neighbors poured into Croatia - the Austrians and Hungarians, who were the first to appreciate the healing local climate, the beauty of nature, and the opportunities for varied and healthy recreation. There is freedom for everyone here - modern Robinsons dreaming of solitude (they say that even if the country is filled with vacationers, they will not be cramped: for everyone there is a personal cove or island, where any boatman will gladly take you “from the mainland” at a cheap price), climbers and yachtsmen dreaming about the “elastic wind”, for lovers of scuba diving and beneficial thermal springs. And, of course, for gourmets - the best varieties of fish (and there are about 400 species in the local waters), lobsters, and oysters come to the table fresh, bypassing the refrigerator.
Croatia is a country where you want to return. The reason, perhaps, is in the harmony and beauty, which here for some reason turned out to be beyond the control of the harsh age of scientific and technological progress.
It’s amazing: being just a few hours’ drive from the center of Europe and enjoying all the benefits of civilization, Croatia has managed to preserve untouched beautiful corners of wildlife - the kind that most of the continent knows only from old photographs,” Danvita director Nina Senchenko enlightens me while we We are waiting for our charter at Domodedovo airport. Three hours will pass and I will see everything with my own eyes.
Woven from the sea, sun, greenery, islands, coves and rocks, nature itself, like a brilliant architect, embodied on this earth the law of the “golden ratio”, in “divine proportion”, as it was called in the Renaissance, measuring out its share to forests and water and drier. “The gods wanted to glorify what they had created, and on the last day they created Kornati from tears, stars and the breath of the sea,” this is how Bernard Shaw described the piece of Croatian land that captivated him - a necklace of islands thrown into the sea. Probably, each of the 1,185 islands, each of the thousands of bays and coves that indent the coast of Croatia deserves such words. Here European kings and heirs to the throne took a break from great state affairs, whose lists include the German Emperor Wilhelm, the Austrian Franz Joseph, even the Japanese Hirohito and other titled persons.
Shakespeare settled the heroes of his comedy “Twelfth Night” on this land. IN different years Her charm was inspired by the romantic Lord Byron, the Italian witty comedian Goldoni, the courageous American Jack London, and our compatriots Chekhov and Yesenin. Agatha Christie, wise in life and experience, chose Croatia for her honeymoon after her second marriage. “Under the window of our villa,” wrote the famous dancer Isadora Duncan, while relaxing in 1902 at the Villa Amalia in Opatija, “there grew a palm tree that attracted my attention. Never before had I seen a palm tree growing in freedom. Every day I looked, how beautifully its leaves sway in the morning wind, and from her I took this light swaying of the shoulders, arms and fingers.” This is how she conquered the world.
The Croatian land witnessed one of the most romantic stories of the 20th century - the love of the British king Edward VIII and the American Wallis Simpson. Having sacrificed the crown to his feelings, the crown bearer took refuge with his beloved in Dalmatia - although how many on earth beautiful places! - delighting some of his compatriots with his courageous act and causing indignation among others with what was perceived as outright neglect of the throne. But the scandal attracted the attention of the then British and American press to the beautiful land on the Adriatic. Clothes stylized as the national Dalmatian costume appeared on the catwalks and streets of New York. To Dalmatia from british isles and curious tourists rushed from across the ocean. And everyone considered it their duty to visit Dubrovnik, which was immediately dubbed “the heart of Dalmatia, the pearl of Croatia, its calling card.” Connoisseurs compared it with Venice and assured that it could well compete with the “beautiful Italian” for the right to be called the most beautiful city Mediterranean and Adriatic.
We, too, did not change the traditions and, as soon as we stepped on the ancient stones, we plunged into the extraordinary atmosphere of Dubrovnik - scorched by the sun, intoxicated by idleness, cheerful and relaxed. Let me note right away: there is probably no other land where so many treasures taken under UNESCO protection could fit on a tiny piece like Croatia: Dubrovnik, Split, Trogir, Plitvice Lakes and more, more...
We were lucky: we were introduced to Dubrovnik by a scholar-historian, a native of the city, who knew all its nooks and crannies and spoke as if he himself had witnessed the events of centuries ago. Together with Leiko Iovich (“A lion according to you,” he introduced himself), we walked along main street Stradun, every now and then deviating to the side "rocks", narrow - as wide as an arm's length - streets, with steep stairs climbing along the ancient houses up, up, up.
In some places the flight of stairs is interrupted, resting on the street-terrace, as if hanging over the houses. Nowadays these terraces are home to many tiny - two or three tables - restaurants serving excellent Dalmatian wine and seafood delicacies. The restaurants smoothly flow into one another, and the border can only be determined by the color of the tablecloth and serving. The owners are right there, persistently, but not intrusively, inviting guests, convincingly describing the merits of their cuisine. The competition is huge, so you have to spin around, using all your ingenuity to come up with something especially attractive. And they come up with it. Cheerful fat man Marco, whose funny cartoon portrait decorates the menu board among images of sea life, offers potential clients a taste of homemade wine. His competitor neighbor demonstrates a picturesque dish with fish, which can be baked, fried, boiled, stewed - whatever the guest wishes. The charming Polish lady Helena, whom her parents brought to Dalmatia as a girl, and she settled here, sets the table in the middle of a round aquarium vase with a goldfish. And everyone will add a plate of cheese, salad or a glass of wine to their order. "Compliment" is called...
As if having rested on the terrace-square, the staircase-street runs higher, to the next “square”.
The location, height and width of buildings, the slope of roofs for drainage, the slope of streets, the size of windows and thresholds - all urban construction was regulated to the smallest detail by the Constitution of the Republic of Dubrovnik in 1272, says Leiko Jovic. “By the way,” he said, “this Constitution, supplemented by minor amendments, lasted until the fall of the Republic in 1806, after the invasion of Napoleon.” So, if the owner of the house made the threshold even an inch larger, crawling out onto the sidewalk, and the door was wider or shorter than prescribed, he was punished. It doesn’t matter whether he was a nobleman or a commoner.
Learning the history of the free Republic of Dubrovnik, I mentally projected many of its institutions into our lives. It turned out interesting. “Forget personal matters, attend to state affairs” - this inscription, carved above the entrance to the Great Assembly and preserved to this day, was read by the “deputies” who gathered for their meetings. And God forbid that you break this commandment from the moral code of the “fathers of the republic” and take advantage of your “official position”! They paid, as the chronicles testify, not only with expulsion from the honorary meeting, but also with a reputation that was valued more than gold. In the Republic of Dubrovnik, complete “harmony of the estates” prevailed - and only this allowed it to avoid social unrest for centuries.
She did not create idols and did not erect monuments in honor of her celebrities - was it because she did not want the next generations to tear them down? The only one to whom, by decision of the Republic in 1638, a monument was erected in the courtyard vestibule Princely Palace, there was Miho Pretsata - a navigator, a citizen who donated all his property to the city. The Republic valued artisans and encouraged science, literature, and art. The first pharmacy in Europe was opened here - and now it is carefully preserved as a museum, where you can see flasks and instruments over which someone similar to Doctor Faustus conjured. And in the Sponza Palace, where there was the first school in the Republic, then the most famous society in the Balkans, the Academy of Scientists, now houses one of the most valuable archives in the world. The first documents from 7000 volumes of manuscripts date back to the 12th century, the last ones date back to our century. Maritime historians especially value “professional materials”: all records relating to ships and their routes have been stored here in perfect order since 1278. Including lists of crews and passengers.
Even during the construction of the fortress walls (and they were rebuilt during the 11th-17th centuries), what we would call “national interest” was taken into account. When erecting, for example, the Lovrenac fortress, three walls were laid from 3 to 12 meters wide, and one was only 60 centimeters wide. This was one of the wise precautions: if one of the commandants of the fortress decided to encroach on power over the free city-republic, he would be immediately “neutralized.” And it is probably no coincidence that one more of Dubrovnik’s moral postulates is engraved on an ancient stone just above the entrance to Lovrenac: “Freedom is not for sale for all the gold in the world.” They conquered the city, but could not conquer it.
After the fall of the republic, the fortress turned into the barracks of the Austro-Hungarian occupiers during their 100-year wars, then - as soon as the guns fell silent - into a restaurant, then into a meeting place for the International PEN Club. During World War II there was a Nazi prison here. And now Hamlet is being played in Lovrenac. To this day, the ancient walls, in the scenery of which the tragedy of the Prince of Denmark unfolds, remember one of the best performers of his role - the great Laurence Olivier. And in the summer, the fortress, like 32 other attractions of old Dubrovnik, turns into stage venues for the famous arts festival, which has been held here every year for half a century from July 10 to August 25. Even the attack in 1991 by the Serbs, who could not accept Croatian independence, did not force the city at the foot of Srdzha to take an “intermission”.
We were preparing gifts for the children in the courtyard of the Sponza Palace, when suddenly the sky over the city darkened and a rain of grenades and shells fell on it,” said the owner of the boat on which we decided to sail around Dubrovnik. An experienced sailor, he now calls himself an “old coaster,” and he takes tourists on his own boat, serving as a guide at the same time. The income earned during the season is enough for the winter. True, in order to put on shoes, dress and pamper three sons, a wife and a daughter, one still has to work hard at a construction site. Our new acquaintance is happy with this.
The main thing is that it should be calm, without war. Like now,” he says. - And that day - December 6, 1991, St. Nicholas Day, we call it that - the day of fear and horror. Then a truce was declared, we thought there would be a ceasefire, as promised. No. The ships blazed like torches. Houses, churches, streets were shaken by gunfire. It was scary when the cross fell on Srdja. It's like the end of the world has come. And six months later, on May 31, 1992, there was a new raid. Then entire villages burned down. It’s a real pity for the Arboretum park in Trsteno. They say it was one of the most beautiful in Dalmatia. For several centuries it was grown by the Guchetichi, the famous aristocratic family of the Republic. There were poets, artists, experts and nature lovers. And in one fell swoop everything was destroyed. There are only two plane trees left,” our captain sighs. - Thank God, it's all over now. Only on the houses can you still see war wounds. But we'll patch it up. But tourists are coming to us again. There are, however, not enough Russians yet. Mostly Germans, Italians, Austrians. Many guests from Holland and Belgium. Recently the Poles have appeared.
Later, the tourism department told me that tourism in Croatia was gaining momentum again. The number of holidaymakers is already approaching ten million a year - twice the country's population. It's not just Europeans - they come from all continents. They hope that by 2003 the “golden” pre-war level will be reached, when Croatia was considered almost the most visited corner of the world. There are reasons for optimism. Nice hotels, good quality, environmentally friendly cuisine, almost zero crime. The Blue Flag has been flying over the maritime area for the third year now - the European Evaluation Commission awards it for quality services, cleanliness of the sea, improvement of beaches and piers. “Dubrovnik and its surroundings belong to the cleanest sea of the entire Adriatic,” Jacques Cousteau once wrote. And you can trust him.
The island of Brac, where we went by ferry from Dubrovnik, looks like a huge ship anchored in the azure sea. Mitko, the driver of the minibus at our disposal, immediately informed us that Brac is famous for its stone quarries. “The White House in Washington was built from our stone and marble,” he declared proudly and immediately suggested a trip to the quarries. We did it. But a little later, having walked around the charming villages scattered around historical center islands - the town of Supetar. It grew up around a small harbor and its main inhabitants are fishermen. Like many centuries ago, they come here in the morning, moor their schooners and boats, dry their nets almost on the embankment, and they themselves sit in coastal restaurants - konobas, order a cup of strong coffee, leisurely exchange a couple of terse phrases - about life, about the catch and go to trade this very catch. Life here flows slowly, measuredly, checking, as in the old days, by the sundial on the wall ancient temple.
On the way to the quarry we stopped at another village (Mitko really wanted to show off the most famous places on the island).
This was Napoleon’s headquarters,” he pointed at the solid, strong building.
And now?
And now nothing. There is nothing at all in this village. Once upon a time we lived
4 thousand people, 11 left. During the war, everyone dispersed: some went abroad, others went to big cities.
The abandoned village looked unexpectedly elegant: no dilapidated houses, no boarded up windows. There was a telephone booth near the ancient temple. It turned out that you can call anywhere using the card. I took advantage of this and called Moscow. While we, dumbfounded, were discussing this abandoned village, out of nowhere, the grandfather, the local old-timer, appeared. Grandfather was cheerful and sociable. It was easy to talk to him - he understood Russian words well, and we understood Croatian words. The grandfather said that he was 71 years old and that he did not want to leave his home when his children and their neighbors left here. “They will come back anyway,” he said confidently. “Some are already returning.” Suddenly something rattled in his pocket. He, groaning, took out... a cell phone. We were speechless.
Before leaving for the “mainland” we were invited to lunch at a hotel, which, we were assured, was famous for its cuisine. Entering the hall, we must admit, we were confused. The walls were covered with posters reminiscent of our civil defense visual aids. On one of the tables lay a disassembled gas mask, next to it were instructions for using inflatable vests, approximately the same as those laid out on airplanes. Boxes with... board games. In a separate box there were some tubes piled high in khaki-colored packaging. We couldn't resist and started looking at them. It turned out to be a cream. One is against mosquitoes and flies, the other is against strong sun.
Suddenly, young, healthy, tanned guys burst into the hall in a noisy crowd. Looks like it's from the beach. Seeing strangers, they apologized and quietly walked through the open doors and into the building. We were told that British soldiers from the peacekeeping forces stationed in Bosnia were now living in the hotel. Every six months they come here for “rehabilitation,” which is combined with military training, then they go on vacation, home, and then return to their place of service. Six months before the next vacation. They take care of the guys here - they are soldiers, after all. “We cook their food according to English recipes,” said cook Maria, who also fed us.
Then we met an even larger group of peacekeeping soldiers on leave from Holland at the Medena Hotel. There were many girls among them. They looked unusual in camouflage. But their uniforms did not stop them from having fun at the night disco...
And towards the end, Croatia gave us another meeting - in the tiny village of Sebet near Trogir, not far from the Medena hotel, where we lived. The village itself is typically Croatian - clean, neat, with a temple and a square in front of it, paved, like in all ancient cities white stone, a couple of narrow straight streets, where the windows of the houses look into each other's eyes. And of course, with the remains of an ancient fortress wall. In a word - Trogir in miniature. Or Split. Or Primosten - you can name a dozen cities, similar as twins, but also different as twins, with their own character, with their own special feature.
A special feature of our village was its art gallery. We saw it right away: at the open doors there were pictures - flowers, the sea, barges, sailboats, islands, rocks. Everything we saw while traveling around Croatia suddenly came to life on canvas. They were blazing bright colors, bold nervous strokes betrayed the irrepressible temperament of the author. The hand felt strong, clearly masculine. Above the door was written "Miliyada Barada". After looking at the pictures, we moved on. But we hadn’t taken even a dozen steps when we ran into a sign “Mino Barada Street”. Intrigued, we returned to the gallery. We saw a marble memorial plaque on the house that had not been seen before. She reported that the famous historian, member of the Croatian Academy of Sciences Mino Barada, who was also a writer and a prominent public figure, was born and lived in this house. The dates of his life were amazing: 1889 - 1989. One hundred years! We looked into the gallery again. A pleasant female voice called out to us from the second floor and asked what brought us here. “Curiosity,” we explained. The woman put down the brush she was holding in her hand and came down to us. Graceful, dressed smartly and elegantly, as if she was expecting guests. Introduced herself. Miliyada Barada, artist, poet, gallery owner. Heiress to a famous name and an equally famous house.
Look - this corner was once part of the fortress wall. It is more than 500 years old. “She proudly shows the ancient masonry and niche that has been preserved for a long time. - The spirit of my ancestors hovers here, I feel it.
Miliyada herself was born far from here - in Australia: Croats have long been scattered all over the world, there are especially many of them in Canada and on the Green Continent. She returned to her historical homeland very young - something was pulling her. Although there were still a brother and sister there. Now lives in Zagreb. He writes a lot - poems and paintings. I have been drawing since childhood and knew for sure that I would be an artist. Her paintings are bought by private collectors and museums different countries. They also decorate the Vatican collection. Miliyada didn’t even think about poetry. Rhymes and rhythms began to emerge unexpectedly. And they turned into 8 books. Poems, like paintings, are about the sea, about flowers, about native land. “About my roots and my element,” says Miliyada.
When she comes to Sebet, people flock to her. Fishermen talk about their catches and look at her paintings. They like them, only the men are surprised how she, a woman, manages to so accurately capture the multifaceted character of the sea. Women talk about children. She's interested in listening. She knows all the local people. Yes, this is not difficult: there are only 500 people in the village. They live in abundance, and this makes Miliyada happy. She does a lot of charity work. He has been a member of UNICEF for 26 years. Organizes humanitarian aid for African children suffering from wars, poverty and disease, refugees from neighboring Bosnia and other countries. Fortunately, her compatriots emergency help no longer needed - they stand firmly on their feet.
As a farewell, Miliyada gave me a book of her poems. One of her paintings is reproduced on the dust jacket. A thick tree, through whose branches the sea shines blue. The tree has been growing for more than a hundred years near the house where her ancestors lived and where her grandchildren will live...
Already at the airport I realized what I was still missing in Croatia. Dalmatians! I imagined that elegant spotted dogs originally from Dalmatia would be seen there at every step - just like in the famous Disney film "101 Dalmatians". Nothing happened. In Moscow, these expensive dogs can be found much more often than in their homeland. When I pestered local residents with a question - where were the Dalmatians, they answered laughing: in the Franciscan monastery in Zaostrog. In the painting of 1724, a Dalmatian was depicted there for the first time. We should take a look...
Elena Bernasconi
In my works, the main characters are adults and wise people. So I decided to write about our younger generation. Even if these are only stories and not novels, it’s a bad start. We will also write novels if readers like these short stories. And at the end of the book, a bonus awaits readers. I will reveal the secret of the story “Red Partisans”. So let's go
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The given introductory fragment of the book Country of a thousand islands. Adventures. Alternative history. Collection of stories (M. V. Yankov) provided by our book partner - the company liters.
COUNTRY OF A THOUSAND ISLANDS
Country of a Thousand Islands
adventures
Introduction
Let's introduce ourselves. My name is Ulyana, I am 11 years old. For the last 4 years, my younger sister Nastya, my mother and father, and I have been living in the city of Gelendzhik. We came from Volgograd, where all our relatives remained. My mother is engaged in online sales; even on vacation, she does not part with her laptop. Dad is not given vacation in the summer - he is a builder.
Therefore, in the summer, on vacation, we usually go without it.
This story began with the fact that my mother found some kind of new company, which actively promoted its products to the Russian market. Exclusive and cheap clothes sold well and my mother repeatedly purchased goods from this company. Regular purchases by the same buyer did not go unnoticed in the reports of this small organization. She was offered to personally come to the city of Mangar to sign some agreements. Travel and hotel room were paid by the company itself.
What where When? I became curious, terribly. Where is this city of Mangar? Where is Indonesia and what kind of country is it? I “climbed” onto the Internet and found out that it is called the country of “thousand islands”. Even the Indonesian government doesn't know how many islands they have. The director of the Ministry of Fisheries and Marine Affairs of Indonesia, Alex Retroboon, said:
Like this. Moreover, many of them have not been studied and almost half do not have any names at all.
Bananas, pineapples, pirates, piastres! From that day on, the systematic siege of my mother began. According to all the rules of women's wars. Licking and tears, diligence and complete refusal to fulfill one's duties, reasonable arguments and hysterics. The female half of humanity does not need to explain what psychological pressure is. Although mom is not a man, she still has nerves! It all came down to one thing - either my mother takes me with her, or she blames herself. Let her think every minute where her daughter disappears and in what company.
In general, mom gave up and trading began. Mom’s argument is that I need to buy a ticket, which costs $1,200 just one way. I put forward a counter-argument - children under 12 years old buy a ticket for 50% of the cost. And I’ll soon be 12 and then I’ll have to pay 2 times more. Youth won, especially since my dad supported me. The very thought of being left alone with two children for almost a month terrified him.
"Hooray! I'm coming! – a thought flashed through my head. I was incredibly happy. Emotions poured out like an avalanche. Seeing this, my mother made it clear that if I did not focus on the trip and getting ready, then I would not see Mangar. After struggling a little with my emotions, I calmed down.
For a whole week, preparations for the trip were going on. My preparation was not to disturb my mother. Which is what I did. Within a couple of days, the whole school knew that I was going to Indonesia in search of pirate treasure. Perhaps I will even fight modern pirates. Maybe I'll meet some local prince and much more.
We left Gelendzhik on May 28, and arrived in Volgograd the next day. After spending two days visiting my grandparents, we left Nastya in their care and took the train to Moscow. Then, 12 hours by plane and we arrived in the city of Jakarta. Our torment did not end there. 2 more hours small plane, flew to Mangar. Finally a taxi and we are at the Oasis Hotel. We rested for the rest of the day. The hotel is not the best, but expensive. This is because they have their own beach, which we took advantage of.
And the next day, after an early breakfast, I was left alone. Mom left on business, giving me a whole bunch of instructions. Like all ordinary children, I simply did not hear them, highlighting only the main thing among them - do not go outside the hotel territory. I spent an hour tormented by the TV, which showed many programs, but in Russian it was only about sports and politics. I got bored, and happily forgetting about one of the “don’ts”, I went to the beach.
The day was windy and clouds were running across the sky, but it was still hot and stuffy. I swam with pleasure, wisely “forgetting” that children alone were not allowed to go into the water. But I remembered that during the first days, I couldn’t lie under the direct rays of the Sun. Having looked around the beach, she chose one of the free umbrellas, where she moved along with her things. The choice was not accidental. Next to the umbrella lay a small boat. She hid the person lying under the umbrella from the watchful eye of the guard. And I was not eager to answer the question of where my parents were.
She opened her backpack, took out a towel and mineral water. After taking a sip of the cool mineral water, she spread a towel under the umbrella and “forgetting” about “not allowed” and lay down to sunbathe. The wind blew grains of sand along the beach, which got into my mouth and ears. The sun was heading towards its zenith, pushing the thermometer needle to 40 degrees. The only thing that saved us was the breeze, which playfully tried to carry away and swirl the forgotten plastic bags. She covered her head with her shirt, and to prevent it from being carried away, she pressed down the edges of the material with her backpack.
I probably dozed off. I was awakened by a rough push on my shoulder. She raised her head and saw a man running away towards the hotel. A sand waltz played out across the beach. The sun disappeared behind clouds that appeared out of nowhere, and the wind became strong and gusty. The first drops of rain began to fall from the sky. I got up and saw that there was almost no one on the beach, and just 500 meters from me in the sea, a large column of water was rising into the sky. Mommies! So what happens?
She quickly put on a shirt, put a towel in her backpack and threw it behind her back. I was about to run when I felt that I was beginning to be spun and lifted into the air. She grabbed the side of the boat, then pulled herself up and tumbled inside. I was scared. I was very scared. I was so scared that I stopped thinking. I did everything instinctively. She climbed under the bench, pressed her back to the bottom of the boat and firmly grabbed the counter. Then everything was like an attraction. This is when you fly somewhere, you see everything, but you don’t understand where and why. The wind and sand hit my face painfully. Sand got into my mouth and eyes. She threw her shirt over her head and covered her entire face with the material. In the neck area, at the back, I tied the shirttails in a knot. It became easier to breathe, and my face stopped feeling sandy. After some time, the wind weakened, then there was a blow, and I lost consciousness.
I woke up to salt water getting into my mouth. She carefully got out from under the bench and looked around. The sky was overcast, a strong wind was blowing, and there were waves all around. Water splashed in the boat and if it did not drown, it was only thanks to its design, designed to be unsinkable. She opened the pocket of her backpack and took out her cell phone. He was all wet and didn't work. There was nothing left to do but cry. I successfully did this, turning the crying into a roar, and then into hysterics. Feel better.
Before dark, she scooped water out of the boat, using a mug for this purpose. The wind became quieter, the waves were smaller. And at night, through the clouds, the light of some stars began to break through. But the Moon, when it was not obscured by clouds, shone in full force.
In the morning, the wind picked up again and there were no more clouds. The sun mercilessly, with all its tropical force, brought down its light on me. I felt thirsty. She took out a plastic liter bottle from her backpack. mineral water. There was 3/4 volume of water, and without hesitation I drank half. She laid out the contents of the backpack. However, what was there to post there? A towel, a mug, a bottle of water, a pack of Pechenegs, sunglasses, a Panama hat, which for some reason I didn’t wear on the beach, and a cosmetic bag. The purse that I usually carried on my shoulder was now also in my backpack. It contained: a small massage comb, a wallet with wet money, black headphones, hand sanitizer, lipstick, mascara, lip gloss, a mirror, a spinner (an anti-stress toy), a flashlight, house keys, a folding knife and pepper spray. After rummaging a little in the secret pockets, I found two sweet bars.
It started to get hot. Even the wind, which was strong and raised a considerable wave, did not help. I’m probably a born sailor; I haven’t developed any seasickness. She pulled a towel between the bow of the boat and the seat, lay down on the bottom of the boat and crawled into the makeshift hut. It was much cooler in the shade. I looked over the side of the boat all day, but saw neither the ship nor the land. The wind weakened only in the evening.
I wanted to drink again and the remaining water, along with the cookies, told me to live a long time. But my mood lifted, although there was no reason for this. Spent the night wrapped in a towel. In the morning I wanted to drink, but there was no water left. I decided to leave the bars for later. Eating sweets without being able to wash it down with any liquid? Brr. Again I built an impromptu hut out of a towel and climbed into its shadow. The sun began to approach the horizon when I saw the island. I got to my feet and realized that he was nearby. I should have thought of it earlier and done it. Looking out of the boat from an almost supine position, I could have missed other islands or the ship. What to do? There are no oars. The wind was blowing towards the island, but it was clear that it would blow me past.
I looked around again. Bench! But it is fastened with screws. She quickly opened her makeup bag and took out a nail file. Maybe I wouldn’t have guessed, but my grandfather did this once when he forgot his instrument at home. We managed to unscrew the screws in 15 minutes. And now I’m already at the bow of the boat, rowing like a real canoeist.
There were no more than 20 meters left to the island when the boat, descending from the next wave crest, hit something. There was a crash and, closer to the stern, the thin hull of the boat was torn apart by an underwater rock. From the oncoming waves the boat began to be tossed, now upside down, now downwards. The hole began to expand. A little more and the boat will fall apart. I threw my backpack over my shoulders, picked up the bench and threw myself into the water.
June 4 – 12, 2017 Unknown island. Hunting. Fishing. Dishes
I spent the night on the shore, using the bench as a bed and the backpack as a pillow. It was hard and uncomfortable to sleep, but better than on the rocks. As soon as dawn came. Rising from my makeshift bed, I looked around. At first glance, it is clear that this is an island, not a mainland. Throwing my backpack on my back, I went in search of water. I was lucky, I quickly found a small stream. As it turned out later, he was the only one that did not disappear if there was no rain for several days. Having drunk enough and filled the bottle, I went to inspect my now possessions. The island turned out to be surprisingly small. I don’t remember how they are divided there, but it definitely wasn’t coral. Rocky, yes, but there was no volcano on it. The island was no more than one and a half kilometers long and 800-900 meters wide. There were no beaches, the shores were either steep or hidden mangroves. Conclusion - the island is not for tourists. I didn’t see any animals, but there were a lot of birds. This is both good and bad. It's good that there are no snakes or predators. It was bad because it meant that there was no land nearby. Although people could have killed the animal, I did not find any traces of human presence on the island.
I wanted to eat. The first thing I found were bananas. It turns out that getting bananas is not so easy. The first time I couldn't pick them off. The same tornado that brought me here helped. He walked along the opposite side of the island, breaking and uprooting trees. So I just ate too many bananas.
Once again I walked the entire island, but now along the shore. I was finally convinced that there were no large animals here. This means that we need to look for protection only from the weather. And you also need a fire. We do not live in ancient times, ships sail, planes fly. This means that you need something to give a signal. She dragged bamboo sticks and some other branches ashore, but there was nothing to set them on fire. She began to make a hut out of bamboo and palm leaves, but night was approaching. She quickly ran to get some bananas, stopping at the stream along the way to drink. It got dark all at once, in the south. It was just light, but not even a couple of minutes had passed before it was completely dark. Taking a flashlight out of her bag, she headed towards her hut. It was quiet all around. Too quiet. Only the sound of sea waves and the rustling of leaves broke the silence. Fear came up like a lump in my throat. I understood that I had nothing to fear. But rather, it was not fear for my life that scared me, but loneliness.
When she returned, she immediately hid in her shelter. During the day I managed to build a good mattress out of leaves and, wrapping myself in a towel, tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. Something was wrong. No pillow! She shook out all the things from her backpack and filled it with palm leaves. Putting my backpack under my head, I closed my eyes and fell into dreamland.
That night I slept like the dead, two sleepless nights took its toll. I spent two more days building the hut. It turned out that it was not so simple. The structure fell apart at the slightest touch. If you can’t fasten it all with nails, because there are none, then it needs to be tied. The question is what? Manila hemp, Manila hemp, how far away you are. Ah, I remembered! Grandfather said that it is made from banana leaves. The leaves are crushed, soaked, combed, and so on. Doesn't matter. Now we just need to get a rope and urgently. Soaking for two or three weeks is not our method.
She collected banana leaves, placed them on a flat stone and kneaded them thoroughly with a bamboo stick. Then she drowned the soaked leaves in the stream, weighing them down with a stone. The question arose, what to comb them with? How to remove the pulp so that only fibers remain? Comb? Comb! She reached into her bag and took out a massage comb. Obviously not what is needed, but there is no other way. I snacked on bananas, which were already boring, and got down to business. I started combing banana leaves right in the stream. More precisely, by combing. The massage brush combed the pulp out of the leaves, leaving only the fibers. By evening I already had a decent pile of something vaguely reminiscent of tow.
The next day, I began to weave braids from dried palm fibers. Do you know how to braid ribbons into braids? I used the same method to weave a rope, but instead of ribbons, I wove fibers from banana leaves. During the day I got about 30 meters of thin rope. Now you can start building the hut again. Do you know how to make wattle? Colas are driven into the ground and flexible branches are passed between them. That's what I did. One day I prepared materials and dug in pillars. Another day and the hut is ready. It’s so small – 2 meters wide and 3 meters long. I think it should be coated with clay - it would be great! But it's not cold here, there's no need. If necessary, I will do it. But I did it myself.
I really wanted to eat, but the bananas no longer fit into my mouth. In addition, the bananas on the broken trees began to rot. Subsequently, I had to climb a palm tree after them. Have you tried climbing a palm tree? And I climbed in. Just like in the movies. She threw the rope over the trunk of a palm tree and wrapped it around her waist. I throw the loop higher, rest my feet on the tree and help myself with my hands, I begin to rise. Then I press myself against the trunk, throw the loop higher, and the procedure is repeated. One drawback is that after climbing palm trees like that, all my legs and arms are scratched.
There were coconuts growing on the island, and I even picked a few. Having suffered, I dug holes in two nuts with a stone. I drank the contents - tasty, but not nutritious. Therefore, I decided not to climb trees specifically for coconuts. I will collect whichever ones fall. There is water in the stream, but there is no reason to get new scratches and wounds because of coconuts.
It was necessary to find something more nutritious. What's on the island? Birds and fish in the sea. Both require fire - I haven’t learned to eat raw meat yet. And so, you need to get fire. Let the boys have fun making fire by rubbing a stick on a piece of wood. I don't wear glasses, which means I don't have lenses. You can't get fire with the help of the sun. You can also make fire using a flint and a file, that’s what my grandfather did. You hit the file hard with a stone, and a shower of sparks flies out. File, file, file, file. Hooray! A nail file is a small file.
Five minutes of searching in your cosmetic bag and in your hands the coveted tool. Now we need flint. There are a lot of stones on the island. Half an hour of experimentation and I have a dark gray pebble in my hands that gives off sparks when it hits a nail file. The question arises - what to set on fire? Small and large branches have been collected, there is even something similar to moss. I spent half an hour trying to get a fire. I broke all my fingers, but there was no fire.
That’s right, the file is small, the pebble is too, and I don’t have as much strength as my grandfather. You need something that is easily flammable. What I have? Nail polish remover! It burns beautifully, I tried it myself. Another search in the cosmetic bag and a bottle with the necessary liquid appears. There are also perfumes, but they are expensive. I left them as a last resort.
I soak a piece of rope and drop a little liquid from the bottle onto it. Now, quickly, before it has time to evaporate, we get a spark using a nail file and a pebble. Hooray! There is fire! Five minutes and I have a big fire burning.
Now we need game. I unraveled the rest of the rope and got a long twine. While walking to the stream, I picked off all the fruits and seeds that came across along the way.
At the very confluence with the sea, the stream spilled into a large puddle, up to 1 meter deep and 10 meters wide. I made a regular loop and laid it on the shore. In the loop itself and next to it, fruits and seeds were scattered. She hid behind a tree, holding the end of the string in her hands. We didn't have to wait long. Birds similar to ducks appeared and climbed onto the shore. A little more time and finally, one of the birds entered the center of the loop. Jerk! The ducks rush in different directions. But one remains in place, frantically beating its wings on the ground.
For the first time in my life I am going to kill a bird. I feel very sorry for her. Several times I even wanted to let her go, but hunger took its toll.
After 20 minutes, I was sitting by the fire, holding in my hands almost a kilogram of feathered meat and thinking - what next? I've never cooked a bird from start to finish. At home, everything is simple - take out a package with chicken breast or legs, defrost it, add salt and put it in a frying pan with oil. This is of course the simplest recipe, but how do I get there? A bird in feathers, with intestines, legs and head. How should I cook it? I remembered! My dad and I cooked fish in clay, and he said that you could cook poultry the same way. Right in the feathers. We must remember what he said there.
"So. At the very beginning, you need to check whether the clay is suitable for cooking. To do this, you need to roll several balls from clay and put them in the fire. If at the same time the balls sinter into strong lumps and do not crumble, but only crack, then the clay is suitable.
Clay is clear. Now, without plucking the feathers, cut the neck and wings of the game short, rinse the inside, add salt and then simmer. You can put fat, fruits and berries inside the carcass. After this, you need to coat the game with clay, driving it under the feather. The clay layer should be 1-2 cm. We rake the fire, dig a hole in the ashes and place a clay “doll” there.
That's where the camp knife came in handy. Small and inconvenient, but it cuts and has a small handle. Somehow I cut off the head and wings of the bird, ripped open the belly and removed the entrails. Ugh! I won't go to study to become a cook. I put bananas and coconut pulp inside the duck. I don’t know what will happen, but I don’t have any apples. It will do as well. She covered the duck with clay and got dirty herself. I threw some wood into the fire so that the earth would warm up better and there would be a lot of coals. She put the duck next to her so that the clay would dry out slightly, and then she ran to the stream.
It took me a long time to wash my face, I scared away all the ducks, but I found an old coin. It was so dirty that it was almost impossible to see the image. So for now I put my find in my pocket. She returned to the fire and continued her culinary delights. After the “doll” was placed in the hole, she threw coals on top and lit a small fire. A couple of hours later I pulled the clay doll out of the fire. The clay sintered and became hard. She broke it with a stone. The feathers were baked in clay and separated from the bird carcass along with the skin. It turned out so delicious! If it seemed to me that the bird was under-salted, then I simply sprayed it with sea water.
“I have never eaten anything tastier in my life! Or am I just that hungry?”
A couple of days passed and I ate too much of the bird. I tried to fish. I used earrings for this. Children's earrings are secured with a loop lock. Very similar to a small spinner. I sharpened the tip of the loop, bent it and the spoon is ready. I soak banana leaves in the stream for 12 days. I tried to weave a fishing line from fibers. The fishing line turned out to be thick and, it seemed to me, fragile. It’s not surprising, I don’t know how to properly prepare the fiber and how to weave it. A lace from my shorts, which acts as a belt, came to the rescue. Synthetic threads separated perfectly and were durable. There were no problems with the rod. The float was also made from bamboo. To make it more visible in the water, the upper part was painted with red lipstick.
And here I am sitting in a small bay and trying to catch a fish. A pebble in a lure earring sparkles in the sun and this attracts fish. Unfortunately, most of the fish jump off the hook. My spinner does not have the same squiggle that any other bait has. fishing hook. It prevents the fish from jumping off the hook.
But soon I adapted, and the catch became better. Unfortunately, large fish simply unbend the hook. I look at the catch. There are a lot of fish, but all of them are no larger than my palm. I throw those fish that are brightly colored back into the water. I heard it said on TV that poisonous fish are specially brightly colored, as if warning – don’t eat me, you’ll die. Therefore, I throw those fish that are brightly colored back into the water. I put the rest of the catch in a palm leaf and was about to leave, but at that moment, the water in the bay began to boil. The fish that I threw out was dead and now it was being eaten by some large underwater predator. Perhaps not alone. I took a closer look, and there it was, three fish the size of my hand were circling in the water. Let's remember, now it's time for dinner.
I had a hair clip that looked like a fish. I chipped the plastic off it, revealing a steel plate underneath. A little work and I got another knife. The blade is about the size of my little finger, but it's fine for cleaning fish. The main thing is that it is not folding and therefore you can apply more different forces to it - it will not come loose. I used the same knife to cut off young bamboo shoots. I baked the fish and shoots in clay. It turned out delicious, only the fish was small, and the shoots had to be washed in water to remove clay. The conclusion is simple - the shoots should be baked in bamboo leaves, and the fish should be caught larger and smoked.
The next day I didn’t go for game. I decided to catch those large fish that I saw in the bay. I tried to make a trident. Bamboo was used. I tied eight smaller branches to a large stick, cutting their ends obliquely. The result was not a trident, but an eight-prong. I returned to the same place and began fishing again with a spoon. Only this time I stopped fishing as soon as I caught about a dozen fish. She cut them in half and threw them into the water.
It's a pity I don't have a camera. I probably look cool. I'm standing on big stone in shorts and a T-shirt, raising his eight-prong above his head. And here are the guests, the water in the bay began to move. One of the fish swam very close, and I hit it with my weapon. Something strongly pulled my hand, and the eight-prong flew to the side. A large fish was swimming along the bay on its side, and two bamboo sticks were sticking out of it. "I got!" She grabbed the former eight-prong, which had turned into a six-prong, and threw herself into the water. The water in the bay is waist-deep. She quickly caught up with the fish and hit it twice with her weapon. The fish became quiet and I pulled it ashore. The prey turned out to be longer than my arm. It will definitely be more than 70 centimeters. Satisfied with her catch, she headed to her hut and began preparing dinner. In the evening I had fish on a spit and baked bamboo shoots.
10 days have already passed, and not a single boat is at sea. Planes fly regularly, but they are high in the sky. I wanted to write “SOS” in the sand, like they do in movies. But the island is small, and sandy beaches No. We can only hope for ships. In four places on the island, firewood was prepared for fires. So, no matter which side the ship appears from, if I make it in time, they will see my fiery “SOS”. You constantly have to monitor the fire so that it doesn’t go out. Twice already I yawned and had to relight the fire. And there is not so much liquid for removing nail polish. True, there are perfumes, but there are very few of them.
End of introductory fragment.
Which country is called the “Country of 1000 Islands”? and got the best answer
Reply from Ђ@nyushka[guru]
INDONESIA
The country in question is the largest island nation in the world, often referred to as the "Land of 1000 Islands". Rabindranath Tagore said about this state: “I see India everywhere, but I do not recognize it.” (Indonesia).
Answer from 1
[active]
Answer from HANKA[guru]
The Republic of Indonesia (Republik Indonesia) is a state in Southeast Asia, on the islands of the Malay Archipelago and the western part of the island. New Guinea (Irian Jaya). It borders on Malaysia in the north, Papua New Guinea on the east, and East Timor on the island of Timor.
Indonesia is the world's largest archipelago. It consists of more than 13,676 islands: 5 main and 30 small archipelagos. The largest islands are New Guinea, Kalimantan (Borneo), Sumatra, Sulawesi (Celebes) and Java. The remaining islands have a much smaller area. The country stretches 5,120 km between the Asian mainland and Australia. The equator separates the Pacific and Indian Oceans here.
The ethnic composition of the population is Javanese, Sundanese, Madurese, Badui, Tengger, Indonesian Malay, Balinese, Minangkabau, Ache, Banjar, Dayak, Makassar, Bugis, Minahans, Galela and others.
The majority of believers are Muslims (about 90%).
Indonesian language belongs to the Indonesian branch of the Austronesian family of languages. Developed from the Malay language. Writing based on the Latin alphabet.
National Motto: "Bhinneka Tunggal lka - Unity in Diversity"
Anthem: "Indonesia Raya (Greater Indonesia)"
Date of independence August 17, 1945 (proclaimed)
27 December 1949 (recognized) (from the Netherlands)
Official languageIndonesian
Capital Jakarta
Largest city Jakarta
Form of governmentRepublic
President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono
Territory
Total
% water surface 15th in the world
1,919,440 km²
4,85
Population
Total (2005)
Density4th in the world
241,973,879 people
116 people /km²
GDP
Total (2004)
Per capita15th in the world
$801,432 million
3500 $
Currency Indonesian Rupiah (IDR)
Internet domain. id
Telephone code+62
Time zonesUTC +7 … +9
Reply from [guru]
Thailand, if I'm not mistaken.
Answer from Unixaix CATIA[guru]
Country of a Thousand Islands
Answer from Amorph Morg[active]
There are two options))
Croatia and Canada
Answer from Irina[expert]
Bermuda, it seems.
Answer from Moscow Moscow[guru]
Answer from Irina[guru]
Answer from DORZ[guru]
Answer from Irina[expert]
Bermuda, it seems.
Answer from Moscow Moscow[guru]
most likely the PHILIPPINES or INDONESIA
Answer from Irina[guru]
Indonesia. The Republic of Indonesia is the largest island state in the world. According to the latest data, Indonesia consists of 18,108 islands, of which about 1,000 have a permanent population.
Answer from DORZ[guru]
KRABI is the most beautiful province of Southern Thailand - a country of 1000 islands, discovered by the great Sinbad - a brave sailor and adventurer
Answer from Amorph Morg[active]
There are two options))
Croatia and Canada
Answer from Valentina Smirnova (Akhmatova)[guru]
Thailand, if I'm not mistaken.
Answer from Unixaix CATIA[guru]
Country of a Thousand Islands
The tower clock showed exactly 11.40. Surprised, I glanced at my wristwatches: 19.10. She mentally quipped: “The city of happy people - they don’t watch the clock.” The guide, apparently guessing my bewilderment, said: “This clock stopped during the earthquake in 1667.” Under the motionless arrows on the narrow white-stone streets, life was seething, mixing centuries.
You must enter ancient Dubrovnik through the Pila Gate, a semicircular tower with a sculpture of the city’s patron saint, St. Vlaha. His gilded statue - Vlah holding a model of the city before the earthquake - stands in the altar of the church that bears the saint's name. The steps in front of it, polished by millions of feet, have long been inhabited by tourists. In the evenings there is music booming here. A pulsating laser, tracing bizarre figures in the dark sky, now and then stumbles over ancient walls. The sharp beam freezes for a second, dissolving in the dim light of the ancient lanterns, like the walls. Materialized connection of times...
Surprisingly, it was in Croatia that I felt the absolute concreteness of this concept, somewhat worn out from frequent use. In small towns scattered along the Adriatic coast, behind blind shutters that tightly cover loophole windows, people live in fortified houses that have retained their appearance unchanged since ancient times and have received the status of architectural monuments. Children, devoid of any reverence for hoary antiquity, jump in the “hopscotch” drawn on the stone pavements of the 17th century. Just like many centuries ago, the heavy doors of shops open, filled with a variety of goods - local and overseas.
We, a group of journalists, were invited to Croatia by the Moscow travel company Danvita, which chose this country on the Adriatic as one of its main areas of activity. More precisely, that part of it that is called Dalmatia, which has so far been less developed than others by the Russian tourism business.
By the way, Croatia is a country with old tourist traditions. Historical chronicles contain information that the first hotel for merchants and other visiting business people was built in Dubrovnik back in the 16th century. However, the real tourism boom began in the 19th century - with the massive construction of railways. In 1840, the first tourist hotel was built in Opatija, Istria, on the largest peninsula of the Adriatic Sea. And its closest neighbors poured into Croatia - the Austrians and Hungarians, who were the first to appreciate the healing local climate, the beauty of nature, and the opportunities for varied and healthy recreation. There is freedom for everyone here - modern Robinsons dreaming of solitude (they say that even if the country is filled with vacationers, they will not be cramped: for everyone there is a personal cove or island, where any boatman will gladly take you “from the mainland” at a cheap price), climbers and yachtsmen dreaming about the “elastic wind”, for lovers of scuba diving and beneficial thermal springs. And, of course, for gourmets - the best varieties of fish (and there are about 400 species in the local waters), lobsters, and oysters come to the table fresh, bypassing the refrigerator.
Croatia is a country where you want to return. The reason, perhaps, is in the harmony and beauty, which here for some reason turned out to be beyond the control of the harsh age of scientific and technological progress.
Answer from 1
[active]
Such old countries can be called Greece, Thailand, Indonesia and a couple of other countries
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